"Suker! That calm decision-making in front of goal! He's too composed—it's like he's a precision machine! Does he even know what nerves are?"
"My God! Anyone else would've taken the shot right away, but he went for another cut! That one move completely shattered Inter Milan's defense!"
"But that's Suker for you—an absolutely calm striker. Like a viper—he strikes to kill!"
Suker slipped his jersey back on, then turned toward the commentary box and snapped:
"Viper?! Who are you calling a viper?! What—'lone wolf' wasn't cool enough?!"
SMACK!Maldini suddenly bear-hugged Suker from behind.
His body was trembling with excitement.
He looked at Suker with eyes full of shock and awe:
"So… I really can't let you go?"
Suker scratched his cheek, a little embarrassed.
"Oh! Suker! How was my pass? Your performance was awesome!"
Pirlo ran over, his always-sleepy eyes now glowing with anticipation—Waiting for praise like an eager student.
Suker grinned mischievously:
"Make Ivan call you daddy."
"Make Ivan call you daddy!"
They shouted together:
"Make Ivan call you daddy!"
Nesta draped an arm over Maldini's shoulder, shaking his head helplessly:
"Poor Ivan… these two idiots are going to ruin him."
Maldini just smiled and shrugged:
"I think Ivan should be happy right now."
Inside AC Milan's medical room —
The team doctor watched the replay of the goal on TV, hearing Aldo Serena heap praise on Suker.
He shook his head, sighing with emotion:
"That's just Suker for you."
BANG! CRASH! BAM! THUMP!
The doctor sprang to his feet, shouting toward the back room:
"Ivan! Are you trying to tear the place down?!"
Then came the sound of someone furiously punching the wall, barely held back.
Clearly, Gattuso was absolutely fired up too.
"One more! Just one more!"Suker raised a finger:"We've equalized — but we still need one more!"
He looked around seriously:
"Make Ivan call you daddy!"
Nesta and the others were speechless.
What kind of motivational speech was that!?
But Pirlo, Seedorf, and the rest seemed fired up.
Or rather, Suker could've said anything right now and they'd be hyped.
In the stands, AC Milan fans had gone absolutely wild.
From a completely disadvantaged position, they had read the flow of the game perfectly—Used smart tactics and well-timed substitutions to completely catch Inter Milan off guard.They clawed back two goals.
This was AC Milan's answer sheet.
Despite a limited squad,Despite missing starters,They had still made Inter Milan pay.
The broadcast camera kept focusing on Ancelotti.
While Suker's performance was undeniably brilliant, it was Ancelotti's tactical acumen and in-game adjustments that turned the tide.
Compared to him, Mancini looked like a complete fool.
At this point, Mancini himself looked totally dazed.
His obsession with victory had frozen his mind—Step by step, he had fallen into Ancelotti's trap.
Now, there was no way out.
Even worse — this match made Mancini's situation even more precarious.
For several seasons now, Inter had been dominated by their fierce rivals.
In past years, that was somewhat excusable.But in the last two seasons, Inter actually had the stronger squad on paper, and they still couldn't win.
That meant the problem was coaching.
Mancini was losing the confidence of Inter's top brass.
If they lost this match —He might really be getting the axe.
Mancini had to find a way.
He needed to boost the attack.He couldn't afford to lose!
Final two substitutions:Cruz and Solari off.Suazo and Jiménez on.
AC Milan also made their final sub.
Maldini off.Simunic on.
Jankulovski dropped back to join the defense, while Brocchi and Seedorf slid into midfield.
AC Milan switched to a 5-4-1.
They were now going full-on defensive counterattack.
Even so, with Seedorf, Pirlo, and Simunic acting as the "frisbee throwers",they still had the means to launch deadly counters.
Mancini's face paled.
"One wrong step, and the whole board collapses…"
Ancelotti had him in checkmate.
"Now Inter's in serious trouble."
Even commentator Aldo Serena could see it.
Mancini was a decent coach,But still not elite.
Ancelotti had made every move with precision—Maximizing limited resources and exploiting Mancini's desire for a quick win,Dragging Inter into a trapand finally tightening the noose.
This match wasn't just a football spectacle—It was also a chess match between two managers.
And Ancelotti?He was clearly the superior strategist.
Ancelotti's eyes calmly watched the pitch.
"It's time for the final battle."
Ibrahimović fired a shot.
But AC Milan's keeper Kalac caught it cleanly.
Ibra stomped the ground in frustration.
The Inter players were visibly anxious.
They didn't come here for a draw.They wanted victory.They wanted to humiliate their rivals on their home turf.
But the current situation had them completely pinned.
Seeing five defenders and four midfielders, they were at a loss. Newest update provided by novel·fire.net
Zanetti looked anxiously upfield—Then glanced sideways at Suker.
That damn guy—He kept hovering near the backline.And they didn't dare push too far forward because of him.
Suker's presence was directly hampering Inter's attack.
This tactical duel was the managers' battleground—And Ancelotti was winning cleanly.
"So this is what top-level tactics look like…"Suker bared his teeth in a smirk.
No wonder Ancelotti had won the most Champions League titles.
Behind that kind, smiling face—Was a devilishly clever brain.
Mancini had been completely outfoxed.
Suker turned to Srna:
"Aren't you guys going to push up? You're losing shape."
Srna's face twitched—he turned away.
This guy was too damn annoying!
But—Suker wasn't wrong.
If they didn't push up,their midfield and backline would become disconnected.
But pushing up meant crossing the halfway line—
Could they still contain Suker then?
"Push up!"Zanetti made the call.
Suker secretly gave a thumbs up.
As Inter's backline pushed forward,Suker also retreated into his own half.
Now there was no offside to worry about.
He could move freely.
All he needed was one chance.
Zanetti's eyes lit up.
Ibrahimović had muscled his way into AC Milan's box.
He was just about to shoot—
But Jankulovski slid in and poked the ball away.
Right to Pirlo's feet.
"Mark Suker!"Zanetti roared immediately.Then turned—Where was Suker?
He scanned frantically—No sign of him.
Then Srna shouted from behind:
Suker was standing just inside his own half at the center circle.
When did he get there?!
Before they could react—Pirlo passed.
And Suker exploded into a sprint.
"Get him!"Zanetti shouted, and took off.
He knew they couldn't beat Suker in a foot race.
Their only shot was to catch him during his stop to control the ball.
Suker slowed slightly—time to adjust.
But—Suker didn't trap the ball.
He nudged it forward, 3–4 meters.
Zanetti lunged—Even grabbing his shirt if he had to.
But right as his fingers brushed Suker's jersey—Suker burst into another gear, completely outpacing him.
Zanetti dove—missed—stumbled—crashed to the ground.
Just in time to see Suker take one touch sideways,dodge the rushing keeper Cesar, and calmly slot the ball into the empty net.
Zanetti's mind went blank.